Not A Well Body...

Today was supposed to be the first day of my summer holiday.

I had planned to go to Mass, do some admin to help my Parish Priest (like many teachers, I get a kick out of going through stationery catalogues), sort out some household chores and then have a relaxing afternoon curled up with a book, before heading back to the church to help set things up for a "youth evening" of a talk, Exposition & Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, Benediction, pizza and a film.

You know what they say about the best-laid plans of mice and men...

The first bit was fine. Fr. Tim had to go off for some appointment or other, and he left me with the aforementioned stationery catalogue, a few files to print out for the Children's Liturgy group on Sunday, and some leaflets for Confession to photocopy and fold... we have three separate leaflets for young children, teenagers and adults, as the examination of conscience is rather different in each case, and I'd noticed that we were running low.

When I finished the tasks, I left the presbytery, locked the door and started to walk towards the church with all the Confession leaflets ready to put into the rack by the confessional. Suddenly, I heard (and felt) a loud "crack" and my right knee gave way. The pain was excruciating, and I couldn't put my foot to the floor. I nearly collapsed, but the wall of the presbytery got in the way, and I manoeuvred myself down onto a step. Out came the trusty mobile phone, and I called for an ambulance.

I was just debating what to do with the leaflets when a parishioner turned up to polish the brasses. I handed them over to her, and she promised to put them in the church

Two hours later, I found myself in the Accident & Emergency department of the local hospital, being introduced to nitrous oxide. As another friend later pointed out, the gas doesn't actually stop the pain, it just ensures that you really don't care about it. I was confronted by a very stern-looking nurse who insisted that I put down the "thing" I was holding (it was my rosary) and take the glass of water and tablets she had brought. I could hear what she was saying, and I really wanted to co-operate, but I couldn't actually get my hands to co-ordinate and I found myself laughing uncontrollably...

The nurse wasn't impressed, and promptly relieved me of the nitrous oxide.

To be fair, she'd probably had a really long and trying day, and a near-hysterical patient who is incapable of coherent speech is probably not the best way to round things off...

Several X-rays and blood tests later, it was decided that it wasn't a fracture or a blood clot, and I'd probably torn a muscle, and I was given a supply of painkillers, anti-inflammatories and muscle relaxants, a pair of crutches, and an appointment at the fracture clinic in seven days, just to see how I'm getting along...

Needless to say, it could have been worse, and I shall endeavour to offer it up for some poor soul... but prayers would be appreciated!